“We don’t need them,” the guy repeated. “And we don’t have much food to spare.”
Glaring at the palisades didn’t help, and neither did Nate’s smirk.
“Well, what did you feed those other two scavenger groups?”
Another pause, this one long enough to make me want to reach for the box of grenades that we kept in the back row and lob a few over the wire fences.
“Beef stew,” came the eventual answer.
“And is there still some left of that? Or, you know, you could just slaughter one of your fucking cows if you get three more now, anyway.” I’d intended to warn them that we’d drugged the cows with ketamine, but considering the circumstances, I was happy to get someone really sleepy if they were unlucky.
“Some.” This time, the pause was shorter. “We’ll send someone out with a pot, if you have something to store the stew in? Don’t stay here.”
“And the cows?” When I didn’t get a reply straight away, I added, “I swear to you, if you don’t take the damn cows inside, we’re going to slaughter them right in front of your gate. Less than an hour away the hills are swarming with zombies. We had to sacrifice one cow to get away. They’ll smell the carcasses and be here before nightfall. Even if they don’t tear down your flimsy little excuse for a barricade, they’ll squat here for days, if not weeks. And for every single one you shoot, ten more will come. Just consider how fucking long you’ll be stuck with your scavengers then?”
Surprisingly, that got him talking.
“Don’t do that! Jesus Christ, you fuckers really are all insane!” Someone grumbled something in the background, and a moment later the guy was back on. “We’ll take the cows. Just sent someone running to get the stew, but it’s mostly veggies and potatoes. Some bread, too, but we don’t have much left from lunch.”
Exhaling slowly, I allowed myself to ease up a little, although I wasn’t beyond seeing Nate’s smirk deepen. Asshole.
“Veggies sound good actually. Meat we can easily just grill ourselves. Cook, not so much. Bread’s awesome.”
So it came to be that after an endless twenty minutes of waiting, the gate opened and ten weary-looking men, armed to the teeth, exited. I’d gotten tired of waiting in the car about twenty hours ago so I was standing next to my door, watching them approach. They eyed us as cautiously as if we’d had zombies chained up rather than cattle, and when the one that approached us saw the dark marks in the shapes of three Xs on Nate’s and Pia’s necks, he blanched visibly. Only after I’d pointedly turned around and showed him that I only had one X across my neck he seemed to find his voice again. It was the guy from the radio.
“We’ll take the cows in. You can come with us to fetch the stew. Only you.”
I stared right back at him, not moving a muscle. If he thought I was less dangerous than some of my companions, he deserved to get his dick chewed off by zombies. Sure, I wouldn’t rise as one of the super fast, insanely durable undead if someone gunned me down, and I might not be able to continue walking for two days after I got speared by a rebar, but the shotgun in my hands wasn’t just for show. I could see that realization dawn on him as he kept studying me—combat boots, tactical cargo pants, jacket, orange-tinted shooting glasses, hair tied securely out of my face to make sure that my vanity wouldn’t be the end of me. That I was the only one left with long hair since Bates had bit the dust was one concession I wasn’t going to let go, faded pinkish-red ends notwithstanding. And as long as I didn’t stand right next to Burns, I didn’t look that much shorter than the others.
My silence had apparently been answer enough because the guy continued to fidget while five others went to fetch the cows.
“I take it that’s a no?”
“That’s a 'how stupid do you think I am?' no,” I confirmed his guess.
His gaze dropped down to my shotgun, then over to the cows. It was nice that, for once, someone was taking me seriously. I didn’t tell him that I had no intention whatsoever to lock them all in their little settlement—but their open hostility and mistrust was gnawing on me. I hadn’t exactly expected to be welcomed with open arms, but this went a little far.
“We’ll do the exchange at the gate then,” he relented when I continued to stare at him. I hadn’t thought that would work—it never did on the guys—but far was it from me to complain.
“Thanks,” I offered, even though I didn’t feel very thankful. The reserves of nuts and jerky that we had with us, raided from that mall, suddenly didn’t sound all that monotonous anymore. It still bothered me. We would only be able to go on canned food for so long, and on the road we had no chance to grow something for ourselves. We might be able to get some fresh fruit from trees, but I didn’t expect many vegetable patches to exist a few years from now.
The cows proved to be docile enough, following along as they were herded through the gate. I wondered if they had been following us because we’d led them away from the stink of decay. They must have learned to keep away from that to survive. But what had they been doing in an area so infested with zombies that they had ran straight into the same trap I’d accidentally followed them into? The occasional lone shambler couldn’t be much of a match for a cow herd, but the tracks we had seen spoke of a thousand easily—enough to overwhelm anything still up and running on this planet.
Nervous Guy and four of the other armed men remained with us, their backs to the gate, continuing to eye us cautiously. There was enough posing happening on both sides, but I didn’t feel like telling the guys how ridiculous they looked. Finally, the outer gate opened again, admitting two of the cattle herders returning, one carrying a huge pot, the other a large basket full of bread and rolls. My mouth instantly watered but I forced myself to curb my enthusiasm. Martinez and Clark took it upon themselves to liberate them of their burden. After stowing away most of the bread and one of the two pots they’d transferred the stew into, they started distributing the aluminum cups that we ate most of our meals out of, whatever the consistency. Nate brought me mine, topped with a chunk of bread. The second half of it had already disappeared in his mouth. So much for him appearing uncaring about the food. One glance at Nervous Guy and he turned back around, leaning against the Jeep next to Andrej.
I dug in, not caring with manners like using cutlery. The stew wasn’t too thick but nicely spiced, the texture of the ingredients enough to make me moan happily. I could easily do without people—but food? Fresh, warm, multi-ingredient food? I’d never thought that would become the commodity it was.
“You don’t look like you’re starving,” Nervous Guy observed, a little puzzled at the display I must have been putting on. I continued to chew until the last bit of beef had made it down my gullet before I shrugged.
“It’s less about the caloric value. But however much hot sauce you dump on cat food, it still tastes like crap.” His eyes went a little wide, and I was sure I’d just served him up fodder for the next few great tales he had to tell.
“Cat food? You really eat that?” he asked, disbelieving.
“If nothing else is available, sure. We were hoping that with the settlements we’d get actual human food more often, but doesn’t look like you’re that big on hospitality.”
I was surprised to see that hit home, but he didn’t offer up another apology. The cows really must have thrown them for a loop. I would have thought that if they didn’t want mercenaries inside their walls, they’d be glad to get a few spare ones that would last them longer. I had no idea how large the settlement was, but even if there were more than a couple of houses in there, they must have had lawns aplenty to easily host a much larger herd of pretty much any domesticated kind of animal. Three cows couldn’t have made much of a difference. I didn’t smell manure in the air, though, making me guess they had, at best, ten cows and maybe a few chickens.
Almost done with the stew, I tipped the cup back and licked the last few drops I could reach out of it, using my knife to spear the last of the bread to gather up the rest. Nerv
ous Guy was still watching me, but with the spectacle mostly over, his attention kept skipping to my teammates more and more, particularly the three chatting in fluent Serbian over by the Jeep. I still hadn’t weaseled out of Nate how many languages he actually spoke. I caught just enough of their talk to understand that they were making fun of field rations, but to the uninitiated that probably sounded as if they were plotting how to invade the settlement. I had absolutely no intention of alleviating Nervous Guy’s jumpiness.
Catching me watching him, he made a point of not looking over there again, but the frown remained on his face.
“Can I ask you a question?”
I smiled as I replied, “I think you just did.” I hated when Nate did this. Why did I do it myself now? Because it was effective, and funny as hell to see annoyance seep into Nervous Guy’s tension.
“How can you stand to be around them? Knowing what they really are. What they can turn into. Will, I mean. You do know, right?”
A million scornful answers burned on my tongue—starting with pointing out that my PhD in virology left me knowing a lot better than he ever would—but I swallowed them in favor of a bland smile. “Do you have any idea how many zombies I’ve killed in the last year?”
He gave me another once-over, mostly focused on the weapons strapped all over my body. “No idea. Ten?”
That got the scoff it deserved. “I haven’t kept count. But you better add a few zeroes at the end of that estimate.” And because I’d earned those bragging rights… Stepping closer, I let the last hint of warmth drain from my smile. “The first one I killed was with a cake knife. And if he hadn’t guzzled down half a bottle of sugar syrup he would have been one of them. Trust me when I tell you that I’m not afraid of anything that’s out there.” Blatant lies—for the most part—but my conviction must have seemed real to him because he blanched to a sickly hue of green.
“Seriously?”
I shrugged. “Do you think that a group where half the people are no longer welcome in settlements like yours would accept me as their leader if I was just a wimp they kept around for a mascot? I earned that spot.” I was a little surprised that I managed to withhold the part about regularly jumping Nate’s bones, but Nervous Guy already eyed me with almost the same mistrust as them—no need to add unnecessary fuel to those flames.
“You really are that crazy,” he murmured, shaking his head. I kept on smiling, because somehow that disgust crossing his features seemed more like a badge I’d earned than the scorn he likely thought it was. Screw them. They needed us more than we needed them.
“Well, it was nice chatting with you,” I said, lying through my teeth, “but we should be going now. I wasn’t lying about the zombies. You kind of have a little infestation going on over there. If you’re the praying sort, hope they won’t come this way.” Turning away from him, I stuck two of my fingers between my lips and whistled, making heads all over snap in my direction. “Anyone still needing to take a leak, now’s your time. We’re just burning daylight here.”
Groups broke up and people returned to their cars, while the good townfolk beat it to their gate. Nate was still quick enough that he managed to walk by me and grab my ass just in time for Nervous Guy to see it. I snarled at Nate, which just got me shut up when he leaned down and gave me a quick kiss. I might have nibbled on his bottom lip just a little bit. Nervous Guy was still staring at me as I jumped into the car and buckled myself in, making sure that my shotgun was ready in the rack between the seats. The sun was still a good two handspans over the horizon, giving us another hour or so before it would set on us. Without another word, I started the car and threw it into reverse, spewing gravel in my wake as I sent it down the road, away from the settlement.
“Any idea where you’re going?” Nate asked, a hint of teasing in his tone.
“Anywhere but here. Got any complaints?”
“None whatsoever.”
So we headed roughly south, as far west-bound as the Missouri River would allow us. With luck, we’d make it to a nice hiding place in Missouri tonight. I’d had enough of Iowa for a while.
Chapter 3
We found ourselves a cozy hollow by some trees growing on a soft slope—ideal to let us see anything coming for miles, but leaving the cars without being silhouetted against the sky. There was a small pond there, fed by a gurgling creek, all very idyllic. I didn’t give a shit, although water was always nice. After spending the last day longing for a bath, I was sorely tempted to brave the pond, but it didn’t look deep enough to submerge me fully, and it was cold as fuck. No, thank you. Nate would have to live with my reek for another couple of days. I’d tried going with deodorants for a while last summer, but with no real chance to wash beyond what my hands could scoop up and some bars of soap, just sweat was a lot more bearable. Maybe we would stay somewhere like this for a while so I could thoroughly wash my things. That would help.
After the last mouthful of stew was gone and all the dishes cleaned up, a few of the guys started on their daily exercises, but I used our little scouting excursion over noon for an excuse to remain sitting by the fire that was slowly dying down. After today’s events no one felt like keeping it roaring into the night where anything that was vaguely nocturnal would see the gleam for miles, even with a dug pit and erected screen. Too worked up to do nothing, I got out the notes I’d taken with me from Aurora—most of them my own, but a few of the diagrams were Ethan and Megan’s. There was also that stack of printouts that had originally been Raleigh Miller’s—the genius virologist who should have become my mentor after my PhD thesis, and, not quite coincidentally, Nate’s brother. Not for the first time I wondered if, had things happened differently, he and I could have prevented the apocalypse. On my vainest days I liked to believe that we might have stood a chance, if a small one. Tonight I was rocking a mood that was a lot more realistic, which made me abandon the science shit after twenty minutes.
“Still can’t leave your old glory days behind, doc?” Burns teased as I trotted back and let myself fall into a crouch next to him. I glanced up and gave him a pointed look, but that went ignored of course.
“Could you just leave your soldiering behind if suddenly there were no wars and no one to fight anymore?” I asked.
“There’ll always be heads that need bashing in,” he provided, ever the voice of reason.
I stared at the flames for a while, watching the last of them die down until there were only glowing embers left behind.
Martinez dropped down on my other side, leaning back against a fallen log the guys had dragged over to use for a makeshift bench. “You had those notes from your old workplace with you all year long and you never glanced at them once,” he pointed out. “Why the change now?”
I shrugged, not sure I knew the answer myself, let alone if it was one I wanted to share.
“We barely have the resources to investigate anything,” I said. “There’s a chance that I can find something that’s in there that they’re overlooking.”
Nate, sitting next to the Ice Queen across from us, scoffed. “To what end? What does it matter if you drag up one more useless detail? They spent a year on hunting down the activator that flips the switch in us, and it changed exactly nothing. Why bother? You know that you can be a lot more use out here with the shotgun in your hands than in a lab somewhere. Isn’t that the reason why you’re here, with us?”
I waited for him to add the part about my admission that it had been his sexual prowess that had turned me away from science, but the joke seemed to have run its course. Finally. It had been fun the first five times, tops.
Pia let out a derisive sound. “Rifle or carbine would be better. You simply make more damage when you don’t have to fight in close quarters.”
I ignored her gripe. I knew well enough that everyone but me agreed on that point. They still weren’t going to change my mind. And I did take the AK that was right now in the rack where my shotgun was during the day when I had to mow down greater numbers
at a distance. I just preferred the shotgun for when I didn’t have to.
“I wouldn’t be sitting here if I thought I could make that kind of a difference,” I answered Nate’s question. “But doesn’t mean that part of my life has to be over forever. I can do both. Adventuring scientist, like the great inventors of old.” That got me the laughs I expected, but Nate didn’t leave it at that.
“You sure that’s healthy?” he asked.
“What, destroy my eyesight by the dying fire? Probably not,” I shot back.
He gave me one of his deadpan stares that let me know that he wouldn’t let me bullshit my way out of this tonight.
“It’s only been two weeks and already you’re starting to regret your decision not to stay in Aurora. Take over their lab. Be their queen bee. Something like that has a tendency to fester, to turn into an obsession. I’d rather not lose you because you get so mopey that you get careless and end up dead because of it.”
“Aw, don’t worry, I wouldn’t give you that satisfaction, dying of sloppiness,” I griped. “If I die, it will be in an act of defiant stupidity. Or heroism. According to you, that’s the same, right?”
He grimaced, but not quickly enough to hide his beginning smile. That was an ongoing discussion all right.
“You didn’t even deny that you are mopey,” he said. “Something’s up.”
Sighing didn’t really do much, so I stopped fidgeting with the blade of grass that I’d been twirling for the past minute and stared straight at him.
“I’m pissed, okay? Livid, actually. Happy now? Admitting it doesn’t change a thing, and it doesn’t help anyone, either.”
“Makes you more human,” Burns grumbled next to me, giving me a nudge with his shoulder. “And lacking cable TV, listening to your tirades always serves for prime entertainment these days.”
Green Fields Series Box Set | Vol. 2 | Books 4-6 Page 3
